


Restless

by VJR22_6



Series: Mallard-McQuack Fam Fluff [2]
Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, drakepad but it's really minor, first work!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6
Summary: Gosalyn’s been missing her Dad for two whole weeks. Sure, she’s enjoyed hanging out with Launchdad and doing a bunch of things she’s usually not allowed to. But Dad’s been on this mission for forever! She won’t be able to sleep until she sees him again.





	Restless

**Author's Note:**

> My first AO3 work AND my first Darkwing work! I think this came out really good. Let me know if I screwed up the formatting or tagging. Written as a present to disneyafternoons on Tumblr, my favorite blogger!

Gosalyn can’t sleep.

Honestly, she probably could, if she really tried. If she curled up under her quilt from Launchdad, wrapped it tight around her shoulders, and closed her eyes, she could probably will herself to sleep after a little bit. But Dad’s got to be back soon, he said he’d be back tonight, and she’s going to be awake when he gets here. She’s gonna give him her biggest hug when he gets here, cause he’s been gone forever, and she really misses him.

Well, not forever. It’s been just over two weeks. But to a little girl like Gosalyn, that’s forever.

And she’s not even allowed to know what he’s doing! It’s some kinda classified mission that she’d never be able to keep secret if she was told about it. But she doesn’t care! It’s probably a boring mission with lots of boring by-the-book hero stuff. The close saves and explosions are more her speed.

Besides, she and Launchdad have been having fun together. The first night after Dad left, they put on an old horror movie and ate popcorn on the couch and totally didn’t spill it everywhere when the bad guy jumped out and scared them. Launchdad’s helped her with her homework every night, the two of them at the kitchen table leaned over her books, like usual. Dad just hasn’t been making dinner while they work, so they’ve ordered pizza or picked up burgers on the way home from school. Which is way better than being forced to eat her broccoli again.

On the first Saturday they were alone, they went out to the park and played around in the grass. Kicked her soccer ball between them for hours. She got dirt all over her clothes, something that Dad would’ve probably kept from happening, but Launchdad just threw a towel over her spot in the car for the ride home. Then, the next weekend, it rained, and they went to the movies. Then they went to the arcade next door, and she totally rocked at air hockey. That was a ton of fun!

Still, through it all, she’s been missing Dad more and more.

For one thing, Launchdad doesn’t sing her lullaby when he tucks her in. Not that he wouldn’t-he totally would if she asked-but it’s kind of her and Dad’s thing, has been since their very first night together. Without a soothing rendition of “Little Girl Blue,” falling asleep has been a little trickier than usual.

Dad hasn’t called in the last four days, either. He called every two days before, to check in and make sure they hadn’t burnt the house down or whatever. And he always ended the calls by telling them both he loves them. That, the “love ya, Gos, promise I’ll be home soon,” helped with missing him, a bit. And she knows he’s busy, and that Darkwing sometimes has to come first so that people can be saved, but that doesn’t help much in times like this.

That’s why, last night, she confessed to Launchdad that she just couldn’t settle down at night. He’d given her a warm, reassuring hug, and let her stay up a little late. They’d collected every pillow in the house, the blankets off their beds, and the couch cushions to make a fort. Which turned out awesome! They’d put on one of the tapes of Gos’s hockey games from last year, and hearing Dad’s voice in the background helped, a little. She was warm and comfy, and settled down on her tummy, and… and all of a sudden, it was morning, she had school, and she was missing Dad all over again.

He’ll be home tonight, though, for sure. He showed Gos his plane ticket a half-dozen times, pointing out the date and time when she asked, over and over. He’d even read it to her while she wrote it on her calendar in a fat purple marker. And she’s crossed off all the days between then and now, each one in a different color from the cup of pens and markers from her desk. A rainbow of waiting.

His plane is set to land at ten thirty, if it isn’t delayed. Launchdad doesn’t see any reason that it will be. He pointed out the clear skies to her as he tucked her into bed. That’s Gosalyn’s big problem: bedtime is nine pm. And it really shouldn’t be hard to stay up, given that she’s had trouble sleeping every night since Dad left. She stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling and waits, ready to toss the covers back the moment he gets here.

Before her little neon clock reads nine thirty, however, she feels her head getting foggy. She does her best to yawn and shake it off until nine forty-two, and then throws her blankets to the side. She pulls her quilt across her lap, running her fingers over the patch made from her old hockey jersey. The fabric is the most worn, but soft and comforting to touch.

At nine fifty-three, she grabs her baseball off the bedside table and rolls it between her hands. She smacks it back and forth, rolling it across her quilt-covered lap until ten-oh-four. Then, she puts the ball down on the table again and kicks all the blankets away. She collapses against the pillows, overheated.

At ten eleven, she sighs heavily. This is taking way too long. She counts the stars on her ceiling, but around twenty she realizes counting is just making her sleepy. She will stay awake to see Dad, whatever it takes.

If Launchdad finds her awake, though, he’ll sit on the edge of her bed and make her go to sleep. He thinks she can just wait until morning and that growing girls need sleep. She’s waited so long, though, she doesn’t want to wait a minute longer than she has to, even if she’s asleep.

At ten nineteen, after rolling over six times and yawning twice that many times, she slips out to the bathroom. She splashes water on her face, tugs a messy lock of hair back when she notices it spiking up in the mirror. She gets back at ten twenty-one, and grabs her Darkwing figurine off her desk on her way back to her bed. She lies down, making up a halfhearted story for the plastic duck, and feels her eyelids get heavy before ten thirty. She wakes back up when the toy slips from her sleepy hand, skidding under the bed after hitting something on her messy floor.

She stiffens up, sure that Launchdad’s caught her, and will make her settle into sleep. After less than a minute, she hears footsteps in the hall and slams her eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. His shadow blocks the hall light from spilling onto her as he creaks the door open, probably gazing in on her with that soft, fond look in his eyes. She just lies as still as she can.

Eventually, she hears the door creaking back to where it was, and in the split second before the hall light goes out, she spots a phone held to his ear. Maybe it’s Dad? The clock reads ten forty-two. It just might be!

That wakes her back up, all the way this time. The airport is less than a half hour away, if he takes the short way through a couple of neighborhoods. And he probably will. She wiggles excitedly, peeking out the half-open door.

The stairs are lit in sunshine yellow, light from downstairs floating up. Launchdad’s probably just as anxious to see him as she is. He’s probably sitting by the front door, curtains pulled back so he can see the driveway. He’ll watch headlights come and go, waiting for the set that’ll turn and park in front of the house.  
Ten fifty comes and goes, Gos twisting the corner of her quilt excitedly. She’s stiff, ready to leap from her bed as soon as she hears Dad come in. Then eleven hits, and her excitement gives way to worry. What if she wrote down the date wrong? Or what if he had to stay a little longer, and that’s why he hasn’t been calling to check in? Or what if he hasn’t been able to call? What if something bad happened to him? What if he got hurt or went missing? Or-

The front door clicks, then creaks open, then closes again with the same sound. Gosalyn all but flies from the bed.

Dad’s standing at the door, suitcase set just out of the way. He’s handing Launchdad his coat, and they’re doing that gross lovey-dovey smile thing at each other. Dad looks tired down to his bones, really, with bandages on his head and one wrist, which he’s rubbing tenderly. But he’s home, finally, and she can’t help but squeak delightedly.

He looks up as she stumbles down the steps, grinning and opening his arms. Her eyes begin to blur with warm, happy tears, so she squeezes them shut and clings to him tightly. “I missed you so, so much!"

“Aw, Gos, I missed you, too,” he murmurs, brushing her fluffy bangs back enough to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then she feels Launchdad’s arms around them both, and everything is warm and wonderful and perfect.


End file.
